An Awkward Conversation
by Telturwen
Summary: In POA, Dumbledore told Sirius to “lie low at Lupin’s”, so what do these two reunited buddies have to say to each other after twelve years? No slash.


**Disclaimer: **It's all J.K., minus the actual writing.

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**An Awkward Conversation**

Sirius picked up the toothbrush and smiled into the mirror to observe his sickening, plaque-covered teeth. He had tried to take care of them in prison at first, but after awhile he figured it just wasn't worth it. Scrubbing the bristles against his gums made them bleed, so he tried to make the scrubbing softer. He watched himself in the mirror as the foam began to form around his dry lips. He let his tongue loll out of his mouth and scrubbed it furiously. It felt good to have something in his mouth other than gruel.

Once he'd gotten all the gritty foam out of his mouth and swished a cup of cold water through his teeth, he stripped off his shirt and trousers and got into the shower. He relished the shortness of his hair. He had chopped it off quickly with a knife, so of course it wasn't presentable, but it was far more manageable than the grossly overgrown mop of hair on him before. He let his body burn under the steaming water running from the showerhead, washing away the dirt and grime of twelve years. He felt bad for Remus' shower, since he figured the tub would be black by the time he was finished—an ironic symbol that 'Sirius was here'.

Water ran in rivulets down his gaunt frame and soaked the mess on top of his head. He shook his hair like a wet dog and then grabbed the bar of soap.

Stepping out of the shower, he looked left and right and was about to take one of the fresh towels when his hand recoiled. He looked over his naked body for a moment and then took one of the worn towels from behind the laundry basket and wrapped himself in it. The fresh ones were perfect, and he didn't want to foul them with the stench of prison that can never be washed away.

- - - - -

Remus set the forks on the right and the particularly sharp knives on the left side of the plates. The wooden tabletop was spotless as it always was and he could find nothing else to busy himself with in the dining room. Back in the kitchen, he pointed his wand at the glasses on the counter and watched them fill with water. He sighed quietly as he sat down on the kitchen chair, glanced at the cooking meat on the stove.

His foot tapped on the wall anxiously, a nervous habit he had acquired somewhere over the years. Usually he kept it quiet, but the strength of the emotional turmoil inside him was filtered solely through this movement and his foot would not be silenced.

He spun a salt shaker in his fingers, not realizing that its contents were spilling onto his trousers every time he turned it upside down.

A puff of steam filled the air as the steak on the stove sizzled in the pan. Remus jumped up from his seat to turn off the flame. He heard the bathroom door open and quickly slid the steak onto the platter. It would do.

- - - - -

They both sat down on opposite sides of the table and gave each other half-smiles in acknowledgment of their presence. They filled their plates in silence, trying not to look across the table more than was necessary. Picking up his fork and knife, about to dig into the first real meal he'd had in ages, Sirius hesitated. Remus looked up from his plate with a curious expression. Sirius put down his utensils and looked his friend in the eye.

"I thought it was you," he stated. Surprisingly his voice was not hoarse of refraining from speak for so long. Remus looked thoughtful, which made Sirius tense. "That's why we switched Keepers."

After a moment, Remus nodded in understanding. It was a whole thirty seconds before he replied.

"Well, I thought it was you, if it makes you feel any better."

Sirius' eyebrows rose until they were both invisible behind the hair covering his forehead. "But you had good reason."

"That I did," said Remus casually.

"I just assumed."

"That you did."

"Paranoid, really."

"You had good reason."

"That I did."

They gazed at each other from across the table for several minutes before Sirius picked up his utensils again and began to cut his steak. It was almost rock solid, and he figured it would have been a lot easier to eat if he had his canines. When he finally got a piece off and chewed his teeth sore trying to bite down on it, he smiled across at the chief. It was just a tad undercooked.

"Excellent steak, Moony," said Sirius pleasantly.

Remus watched him in amusement, and smiled back. "Thanks, Padfoot."

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**A/N:** Well? What'd you think? 


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